


the way you look at me

by blindbatalex



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: <- as a side serving, Angst, M/M, Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso - Freeform, and nostalgia, if you came here looking for fluff, stop now and turn back, this fic is pure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/pseuds/blindbatalex
Summary: He would not have believed it in a million years before, if you told him that arguing with Gary would be the highlight of his post-retirement days.  When he feels the most alive.  Fist-fighting, he would have believed, but- notthis.And Gary does look at him.  Like he is star-struck.
Relationships: Jamie Carragher/Gary Neville
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	the way you look at me

“Daniel Levy loves him, have you seen the documentary? He’s starstruck; he can’t stop looking at him. The way you look at me,” he says to Gary on MNF. 

It is a joke. Cameras are rolling and they laugh.

They do a lot of that these days—joking and laughing. Jamie didn’t spend much time thinking about retirement back when he was still playing—the way you don’t think about death while knowing it is inevitable—and still, Gary Neville is the most surprising thing about it. 

He would not have believed it in a million years before, if you told him that arguing with Gary would be the highlight of his post-retirement days. When he feels the most alive. Fist-fighting, he would have believed, but- not _this_.

And Gary does look at him. Like he is star-struck. 

They will be on air and his face will be neutral and a smile will play in his eyes, in the creases around them, just for him. They will be walking back to their hotel from the pub and Jamie will have to pull him back from stepping into oncoming traffic every once in a while, because he was looking at Jamie and not at the road.

Or they will be in Euston because their trains were delayed, holed up in a corner of the lounge. And Jamie will tell him a story from his past and Gary’s eyes won’t leave him for a second, hanging onto his every word. 

It isn’t even that interesting of a story, to be honest, what he is telling—that time they were in Rome for a Champions League game and he roped Stevie and Xabi into sneaking out of the team hotel and finding an open gelateria at 1am. 

He could not sleep that night no matter how hard he tried. 

He is telling this story now because when they found out about the train delay, Gary said ‘watch my stuff for a moment’ and he returned a few minutes later holding two ice cream cones and brandishing a proud smile.

Jamie eyes the cone Gary is extending towards him warily.

“Are you trying to poison me, Neville?”

“Oh please. If I wanted to poison you I would do it in the studio – much more possible people there with access to what you drink and eat.”

“That’s not nearly as reassuring to hear as you think.”

Gary leans back in his seat, closes his eyes, and licks his own cone – a long, thorough lick that would have made a lesser man blush and made Jamie look away.

“I don’t know why I bother with you. You don’t even like dessert.”

A recrimination. As far as crimes go in Gary’s book not liking dessert is probably up there with Liverpool. 

Jamie laughs.

“I snuck out of a team hotel in Rome once at 1am, to find gelato.”

Instantly, Gary’s eyes are wide open and on him, carrying just a spark of disbelief.

“There is so much you don’t know about me,” Jamie says mysteriously, holding his gaze, enjoying the power he is holding over Gary. 

He wonders sometimes whether it would have made a difference if he just talked to Gary one of those times they were in the national team together. 

In the dining area or in the locker room. 

The couple of times they sat next to each other on the team plane or bus. 

How many interviews has he watched? How many grainy clips on his computer under the cover of the night, trying to get a glimpse of this life Gary led before Jamie knew him? When he was young and headstrong and even more unpleasant than he is now.

But that night in Rome, he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t anxiety about the game; he didn’t know what it was. The night was cool around them, almost cold but not quite, not just yet. The silence punctuated by the occasional car or a group of drunk men speaking in loud voices. They walked and walked, looking for a place that was still open. It could have been for ten minutes and it could have been for hours – time has a tendency to slow down and then speed up all at once when you are walking in the streets of an ancient city with people you love, in the hunt for ice cream, each one of you feeling like a teenager skipping out on high school.

The place Xabi eventually spotted was a small shop, tucked in between buildings on a narrow, winding street. On the worn, stone steps nearby, Xabi sat next to Stevie; their legs pressed together. 

They of course knew it would not last. 

Football has a tendency to take all beautiful things and bleed them dry until all that is left is a lifeless husk, but in that moment, on those steps, they grinned like kids, laughing; they were holding gelato cones in their hands. 

He doesn’t tell Gary all of this. Doesn’t tell him how young his friends were and how they were happy and in love. How he loved them like they were his own brothers. How they knew it wouldn’t last.

A smile lights up Gary’s face, still, as if he is there with Jamie in Rome now, all those years ago. Perhaps he guesses about Stevie and Xabi, can read the details Jamie so carefully omits. The way Jamie guesses about him and Beckham. 

_Where are your wooden spoons, Gaz?_ Beckham asks in a grainy YouTube video.

Would it have mattered if they met earlier? If they talked?

“We didn’t get caught,” he says, his smile fading away. “But we lost the game the next day. Felt like it was my fault—I couldn’t look anyone in the eye.”

He can feel the wet suffocating shame of it closing on his even now, the incessant hum of the stadium, and he realizes his mistake but it’s too late. He braces for the biting reply that he knows is coming, perhaps something to do with his own goals. But Gary merely smiles. “Sabotaging the team one gelato at a time were you?” he says and his eyes, his voice are kind.

And Jamie thinks- if he sat in this exact spot for long enough and kept looking into Gary’s eyes-

And for a second he wants to do something crazy, like- like-

He doesn’t.

*

He is standing squarely in the middle of a hotel room, some years ago. 

The bed is unmade and light, rebellious morning light, is sneaking into the room from the cracks around the edges of the heavy, drawn curtains. Gary is standing right next to him, in front of him. The memory of Gary’s laughter against his throat is so fresh in Jamie’s mind, his hands on the small of his back. His breath hot on his skin. But Gary’s eyes are cold now and behind this façade Jamie can tell he is panicking.

You see, Gary is married.

“Last night-” he starts saying. He stops, perhaps surprised by how high-pitched his voice was.

Jamie finishes the sentence for him.

“It was a mistake.”

Does he imagine the betrayal that flashes across Gary’s eyes, there one moment and gone in the next?

“Yeah.”

“We were drunk.”

“Must be the years of rivalry,” Gary says, forcing a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Jamie replies, attempting a smile. It dies a painful a death.

Gary finishes buttoning his shirt and disappears into the quiet hallway, leaving his scarf and a used condom behind. 

*

And when Jamie says now, ‘he can’t stop looking at him, the way you look at me,’ it is a joke.

Cameras are rolling and they laugh and laugh.

And Jamie tells himself he will move on, he already has.

And Gary looks at him.

Like he loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> im @blindbatalex on tumblr if you want to hmu. prompts and asks are always most welcome; this fic itself came from an ask. if you liked this (or want to sue me for emotional distress) pls drop me a line below -- comments are what allows me to re-charge and write more.
> 
> last but not least if you did not catch the wooden spoons reference, PLEASE watch [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72aHqkhPu0U&t), the holy grail of beville, best 4 mins you will spend.


End file.
